


We Could Go Home

by unanymousdeen



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unanymousdeen/pseuds/unanymousdeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Kuvira this seems surreal—almost eccentric—because, for the first time in her life, she finds the belonging she has so dearly longed for since the day her parents had pitched her aside. Multi-chapter wedding fic. Baavira.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Go Home

“Could you tie this bow any _tighter_?”

“If only you stand still, I could make it perfect.” Huan grumbles, adjusting the knot and loose ends to his desired preference. Everything must be absolutely perfect; this dress was a work of art and each painting has to be mounted faultlessly without exception.

“I have to agree with my brother.” Opal adds as she rubs her chin, scrutinizing her brother’s work. “Pull out more of the ribbon on the right side.”

Kuvira sighs to the extent she is allowed. The white ribbon is wrapped tightly around her torso and offers no solace to her rampaging nerves.

Opal strides around to her front, observing the wrinkles. She attempts to pull them apart enough to convince their upcoming audience it was suitably positioned although it’s firmness doesn’t pass unnoticed. “Huan, it’s too tight.”

And when he loosens the bow, Kuvira nearly closes her eyes in content. She could finally breathe. “Thank you.”

Opal smiles and adjusts the lace over her shoulders. “You look amazing, by the way. My brother is a lucky man.”

“As is Bolin.” Kuvira grins, eyes drawn to Opal’s engagement ring. “You’re next, I’m afraid.”

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” She returns the gesture. “Who knows, you just might be fitting my dress in a few months time.”

“Finished.” Huan announces, a smile on his face as he steps back.

Opal returns to his side and examines the bow. The first thing she notices is that the loose ends fall at different lengths—the left is longer than the right—but she admires the unique touch. “I love it! Great job!”

“Thank you. The bow looks exquisite, and it’s slight falter at the corners gives the entire portrait a more contemporary look.”

“She’s not a painting, Huan.” Opal smiles, nudging her brother’s arm and urging the bride to face them.

“And yet I would like to one day create one.”

Kuvira purses her lips as she feels her stomach churn with uneasiness again. Her cheeks momentarily flushed light pink at the picture of how that situation would have played itself out in the future. Baatar would definitely encourage the concept and urge her to accept his younger brother’s offer.

She presses a palm to her middle, eyebrows furrowing. “Am I supposed to feel this anxious?”

“Yes.” Opal chuckles. “It means you care. Don’t worry.”

“You will only have to do this once.” Huan crosses his arms over his chest. “My mother will butcher you if you do anything to compromise this union.”

“Huan!” Opal smacks his shoulder, her crossness evident.

“No, he’s right. I’ve done enough damage and nearly ruined everything.” Kuvira’s downcast eyes suddenly glint with determination as she returns their gazes, a hint of her former self emanating through her posture. “I have absolutely no intentions of hurting my relationship with Baatar ever again.”

“I suppose if you did, you wouldn’t be here right now.” Opal offers a smile and twines her fingers together. “Congratulations, Kuvira.”

The metalbender smiles despite her nerve and takes another glance at her dress. She drapes her fingers over the lace, mind wandering to what her future will hold and how grateful she is for all that has transpired. To Kuvira this seems surreal—almost eccentric—because, for the first time in her life, she finds the belonging she has so dearly longed for since the day her parents had pitched her aside. Baatar stood by her through virtuous and detrimental times, shared her space for the duration of their childhood, and loved her as if she was the one person in the world that ever mattered to him. 

She would not cry. Not now, at least, before she even had the chance to proclaim her vows. “Thank you, for everything.”

Huan holds out his arm, the corners of his lips turned upwards as he observes her musing expression. “It’s time to go. I shall escort you to the pavilion, soon-to-be-sister-in-law.”

—

“How is everything going, Mother?” Baatar shoves his hands into his pockets, watching her light the candles placed accordingly on each table as he enters.

Suyin stands straight at her son’s voice. “Hello there, Junior.” She welcomes before noticing his attire, a soft smile reaching her lips. “You look very handsome. Are you ready?”

“I think so.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, smile crooked. “Were you this edgy on your wedding day? I feel inclined to ask.” 

Su chuckles, squeezing his shoulder with her free hand. She can sense that her son is tense under his suit. “More than anything else in the world. But, it’s a good feeling in the end.”

Baatar purses his lips, attention briefly straying to the woman he promised to devote his life to. In just an hour, his world will change once more and while he is anxious to begin his new life with Kuvira, Baatar pondered how much the pre-wedding nerve had intended on staying.

He deviates their conversation to his mother’s activities. “What are you doing?”

Suyin retracts her hand. “It’s tradition for the mother of the bride and groom to light candles for their children’s wedding.” She illuminates a new votive. “Although, I’m on my own for this one.”

Baatar considers deciding to allude Opal’s engagement to Bolin, another orphan they’d soon welcome into their prosperous family. But, his musing comes to a halt when Suyin thoughtfully inclines her head. 

“I suppose I will be by myself for Opal’s ceremony as well.”

A sad smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I love being everyone’s mother-in-law.” Suyin beams. “The more family the merrier!”

“Was it originally your plan to colonize the world with Beifongs?” Baatar teases.

“Do you know what Mom said to me on your sister’s first birthday?” She asks, setting down the candle before mimicking Toph’s former expression. “ _When you said you wanted to populate Zaofu, I didn’t know you meant personally_.”

—

“No, no. Leave it.” Huan quirks a brow, his finger coming to rest along his chin. “It’s perfect. Please do not touch it.”

Wei and Wing simultaneously frown, gazing up at the metal sculpture with disparaging curiosity. “What even _is_ it?” The youngest asks. 

Huan groans before pinching the bridge of his nose. “How do you fools not see it?” He gestures towards the top. “It’s supposed to represent the changes that take place between two lovers reunited after timing trials, and how their undying compassion for each other shapes their future.” He turns. “ _Obviously_. The symbolism is self-evident.” 

“Does it have to be right next to the waterfall?”

“What if it falls over?”

“Well,” Wei chuckles, “that would actually—”

“I hate you both.” Huan scowls, balling his hands into fists. “Neither of you have any appreciation for the fine arts!”

“Yes we do!” The twins defend simultaneously. 

“We appreciate the visual art of fighting styles!”

“And games!”

“Combative offense and defense is not visual art.” Huan crosses his arms over his chest. “Those are entirely their own field.”

“Well, I like that ground better.” Wing declares.

“Me too!”

“Conflict without resolution is considered bad luck for a wedding, boys.” 

The three teenagers whirl around, standing face-to-face with their father. 

“Or so superstitions say in the northern water tribe.” The elder man sports a grin after acknowledging a silent Kuvira nearby. “What’s this all about?”

“Fighting is considered a visual art, right, Dad?” Wei persists, his lower lip puckering out in a pout.

Senior raises an eyebrow. “Classically? No. But, with regards to dancing, it is one of the oldest art forms of movement.”

“Fighting isn’t dancing, though.” 

“How are you so sure?” Senior smirks. “Give it some thought. When you practice your bending forms, you have to begin slowly to understand the more minute gestures before mastering them at faster tempos and increasing your skill. Evidently they are not of the same field, but if you watch your mother’s dance recitals, you may recognize a few formations that benders use in battle.”

Huan’s grin grows. “See? _Not_ visual art, but an art nonetheless.”

The twins murmur “oh” as they turn their heads in rumination.

“Fighting is still better.”

Kuvira can hear the twins’ bickering across the room, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips when she listens to Baatar Senior’s statement. She is relatively surprised that Wei and Wing had never recognized the comparison, and came to the conclusion that they hadn’t exactly paid attention to the dance performances. 

Alas, they were much younger at that time; fourteen-years-old just before her imminent departure.

Senior chortles as he steps away from his sons, turning to approach his soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

Kuvira’s eyes instantly shift to him, the man’s never-ending smile still present.

“You looking stunning, Kuvira.” He says. “I wish you all the best on this blessed day.”

“Thank you.” She smiles warmly.

“Welcome to the family.” He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Kuvira feels her heartbeat quicken at his words. _Family…_

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen my son this happy without you. I’ve come to realize that you’ve always been the means to his contentment; the key-to-his-heart, if you’re feeling dramatic.” He chuckles. “Congratulations.”

Kuvira is nearly at loss for words, her pulse continuing to quicken with each word. “Another thank you is not enough to suffice my gratitude.” Her gaze falls to the floor, eyes trained on the hem of her dress. “Your family has been more honorable to me than I could have ever asked for in my lifetime.”

He squeezes her shoulder. “You of all people deserve a family.”

Kuvira takes a subtle breath, the onset of emotions she couldn’t comprehend swelling in her chest. Her eyes sting and she wants to cave in, but the ceremony was only a few short moments away.

She smiles when she meets Senior’s eyes once more.

The door creaks open and Suyin peeks her head inside. She grins at the sight prior to calling her husband’s name.

“It’s time.”

The conversation from behind the metal doors fixates the younger woman’s attention. All of the guests were outside on the pavilion, and the realization that this was the moment she had been waiting years for was wreaking havoc on Kuvira’s mind. 

She takes another deep breath after Baatar Senior leaves her side to take his own by Suyin, their children following close behind. 

There’s no turning back now. Not ever. This was going to be her happy ending.


End file.
